Visitation
by realfanficts
Summary: We all, dream of writing fanfiction, right? Well, it isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Especially when a character comes to call, then his friends! And worst of all, his enemies!Then he goes and blames you for some tragedy you didn't even write!
1. A midnight visitor

THE VISITATION

It was a dark and stormy night… well, maybe not stormy, but it **was** midnight, and I couldn't sleep. I kept tossing and turning, looking for a comfortable position. First this way, then that. Why couldn't I sleep?

Suddenly I heard a noise. A paper fell to the floor, and I shot bolt upright, my heart pounding. I looked wildly around, but nothing else was out of place. I got out of bed to put the paper back where it belonged, but froze. I straitened up slowly, getting a cold shiver down my spine. I wasn't alone in the room.

"Wh-who are you? Wh-what d-d-do y-you want?" I stammer.

"Oh, I think you know. After all, you've read **so** much about me. But wait, where are my manners? You can't even see me properly." With this statement, he flicked his hand, and the lights turned on. I gasped, seeing the vivid lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

"B-but, y-you aren't real! You can't be real!" I squeaked, rather like a rat, I noticed. By this time I was getting seriously freaked out.

"Who ever said I'm real?" he replied. "I live in the imaginations of millions of young minds throughout the planet, but I am certainly not real. I am evidently just a 'figment of your imagination.'"

I began muttering to myself "This isn't happening. Come on, wake up man. It's just a dream." I slapped myself, hoping the pain would wake me up, but I looked up and He was still there.

"You can't get rid of me. I'm already inside your head. And now that you've decided to write stories about me, you're stuck with me."

_This is just great_, I thought. _Not only do I have a fictional character in my bedroom, in the middle of the night, no less, but—eep! I'm not even dressed!_ I hurriedly grabbed some pants and put them on as fast as I could.

When I was finally dressed, I began to think rationally again. It occurred to me he never answered my second question.

"What do you want? Other than scaring the pants off me, that is," I said, with a small attempt at humor.

He didn't smile. "As I've already mentioned, you're planning to write a story about me. Or at least one that I **know** of, anyway."

"Your point being?" I reply.

"I noticed all the crazy things some people think me capable of. Me and my friends, that is. Romances between Hermione and Malfoy, or him and Ginny, or even," he shuddered at this point, "gay pairings. I mean, come on! Malfoy and I? I just don't see that happening **anywhere** in the next millennium or two. And, horror of horrors, me and **Snape**! That's just, well, ugh" he trailed off at this point, not able to find a word capable of communicating his horror of such a thought.

_Oh, so that's his problem, eh?_ "No worries, mate. I totally agree with you," giving a little shudder of my own. "I couldn't agree more. As you've described on more than one occasion, Snape is a greasy git!"

He heaved a great sigh of relief at this. "Thanks. You don't know how much this means to me!"

And with another flick of his wrist, he was gone, leaving me alone in the room.

But was I alone? I heard my parent's door open, and my mom peeks in.

"Honey, what are you doing up? Aren't you supposed to be at school tomorrow?"

"No mom. Remember? My last day of school was yesterday. And I was up cause I couldn't sleep."

"Well," she said with a yawn, "could you at least close your door if you're going to leave the light on?"

"All right, Mom. And I will try to get some sleep. Good night. Or should I say, good morning?"

"Huh? Oh," she said, when I pointed at the clock, and she chuckled before giving a tired "goodnight" of her own and stumbling back to her bed.

I sat up, thinking for a while. Slowly a mischievous smile appeared on my face. I promised to leave unnatural pairings out of his stories, but he never asked me not to do anything else!

I fell asleep, my wicked mind thinking of all sorts of things I could put him through.


	2. Visitor's Friends

Thanks to** Nosilla**,** Louiebugooey**,** CrAzYaNdPsYcHo**,** GMUXMenSoaps**, **IvyCreed6**, **Lunar Blade**, and** LunaShadows** for their signed reviews. If you guys are reading this, my responses to your reviews are at the beginning of my second story, Aftermath if you would like to read them (and while you're at it, could you read and review the story too?) Pretty please?). And whoever the anonymous **personification **is, I'm glad you liked it, but you need to put more in your reviews.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters, and am not making a penny off the publication of this or any other piece of fan fiction. Once again I say that honor goes to Rowling, and whoever it is that possesses the movie rights, so let's all give a nice round of applause to the aforementioned parties for letting us play with their world.

O.K. Now that I've said that, enjoy.

It was another dark night, about a week later, and again I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned like before, though maybe this time it had something to do with the heat.

I got up to switch on the fan I have in my window, in the faint hope that would help. I hadn't taken two steps before I froze. Again there was someone in the room with me. Three someones, to be precise. _Not again!_

"All right, who are you, and what do you want with me?"

One of the figures reached over and flicked on the lights. I blinked a few times in an attempt to get my eyes adjusted. When I could finally see, to say that I was surprised would have been the understatement of the century. Harry's friends had decided to pay me a little visit, it seemed.

It didn't take me long to recover my composure, however. "If you don't mind, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion," I commented dryly. The two girls turned bright red with embarrassment and quickly turned to look in the opposite direction. Even the boy who had come with them had a faint pink tinge on his cheeks, and closed his eyes.

When I had finally put some proper clothes on, I let them know I was decent. Even now, however, they were unable to look me in the eye.

"Before we say anything else," I said, "will someone put up a silencing charm? My mom is just across the hall."

Three wands were raised simultaneously, and in conjunction muttered a quiet "silencio."

"Now, to business," I said, folding my arms and taking charge of the situation. "I suppose you're unhappy with how I wrote your story, aren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here." They all nodded, and the girl with the brown and rather bushy hair spoke up. "That was mean of you, killing off their mother like that! How could you?"

"I don't see how that concerns you. As you said, it was _their_ mum," (I gestured at the two redheads) "that died in the story, not yours, so shut up."

"_Don't_ talk to her like that!" said the boy hotly.

"Yes!" agreed the redheaded girl. "And besides, what she said goes for all of us! Why did you have our Mum die! How could you be so, so _cruel_!" she shouted, tears running down her cheeks.

I turned away for a few seconds, so they wouldn't see the tears I was wiping from my own eyes. I was _not_ weak! Nor would I let _them_ think so, either!

When I turned back to them, I was dry-eyed. Or so I thought. The bushy-haired girl must have noticed something, because I saw compassion on her face. She gestured to her companions and held a hushed conference with them. I looked on, doing my best to look impassive, with my best poker-face on for good measure, but _not_ trying to listen (I don't believe in eavesdropping). The boy glanced up at me once, doubt riddling his expression, but he said nothing.

Finally they were finished, and again looked my way. "Sorry to have bothered you, good sir," said the brown-haired girl. "We won't bother you again! Will we guys?" she said, giving each of her companions a significant glance. "Right," said the boy. "Not a problem," his sister remarked. "Finite incantatum," they all chanted, and with those words, they vanished, once again leaving me alone in my room.

I stood there for a long time, alone in my thoughts as well. Finally I sighed, and undressing again, got back in bed. _Never again_, I thought._ Never again will I write a tragedy. It isn't worth the heartache._ Making that resolution calmed me, allowing me to fall into a deep, deep sleep.


	3. The Rival

Thanks to all for reviewing my story again. It makes me feel special! Here are the individual responses:

**CrAzYaNdPsYcHo**-You are very welcome to that reminder. You're mean, though, to like _that_ detail!  Anyway, glad you liked the story, at least. Hope you can take the time to R&R my other story Aftermath, too!

**Lunar Blade**-Thanks for the encouragement! But what did you mean when you said "only just realized you are a guy from the good sir bit"?

A/N-I originally planned on updating this every time I submitted a chapter for something else, but this is a special occasion! Hope all my fellow Americans had an awesome 4th of July! Three cheers for Independence Day! (This is where you go Hip! Hip! Hooray!) Oh, I almost forgot. You should be wishing me a happy birthday. I turned 18 on the 3rd! Yay for me! But I don't _feel_ any different. Shouldn't I, now that I'm an adult? Anyway, enough rambling. On with the show!

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Several nights later, and again it was dark (somewhat dark, anyway), again I could not get to sleep! No matter that I wasn't even trying—that was beside the point!

Besides, it would have been pointless to attempt such a thing anyway, because for the third blasted time, I had a fictional character in my bedroom!

He had shown up earlier in the day, but I had been unable to deal with him, seeing as my birthday party was just getting under way. By the time I remembered to check on him, everyone had been gone for hours.

But when I walked back into my room, I didn't see him. That is, I didn't see him until I looked into the corner next to my dresser—and away from the window. I couldn't believe my eyes. Everyone's favorite Slytherin is obviously a coward, no doubt about it, but this? This was too much! I started to laugh, so hard, in fact, I literally had tears running down my face.

When I was finally able to compose myself, I noticed he looked rather indignant. Definitely an improvement over the "I'm scared! I want my mommy!" look.

"And just what do you think you're laughing at, you filthy little—"

"Ah, ah, you watch your language here," I admonished, waving a finger in his face. "You're in _my _home now, and seeing as _I'm _the author, while you're here there will be _no_ swearing. _Is that clear_?" I asked, getting in his face.

"Clear as crystal," he replied, taking a couple steps back, eyes widening.

"Good. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

He looked flustered for a second. The rapid change of topics must have thrown him off balance. _Not that he's ever truly balanced, at least mentally._

When I repeated the question, he recovered, blinking his eyes and shaking his head as if to clear it. He regained his smirk (never a good sign, as it means he's regained his confidence), but didn't answer. Instead he looked around the room, his eyes alighting on my desk.

When he saw what I had on it, his smirk broadened, something I never would've thought possible. "Stuffed animals," he commented, with raised eyebrows, my face reddening. "Would you look at that. The big, bad author has a soft spot for stuffed animals!"

I noticed my jaw was clenched, and I forced it to relax before answering. "That's rich, coming from a guy that cowers from nothing more than fireworks! And besides, for your information, I never paid one cent for those. They were all gifts, from family and friends who love me. But wait, you wouldn't know about that, would you?" I replied, a smirk of my own blossoming on my face.

Now it was his turn to clench his jaw.

"Now, my patience is wearing thin, so I'll only ask one more time. Why are you here?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm a little disappointed. You didn't have _me_ in your story. I want to know where I was this whole time."

"Well, based off of what I saw when I walked in here, I'd say you were cowering in the nearest broom cupboard. If you _really_ want to be in the story, I suppose I could put that in. _Would_ you prefer to be in there looking like a sissy, than to have no part at all?"

"No, no, everything's peachy. Forget I asked! In fact, it would be better if you never remembered I was here," he muttered under his breath, probably thinking I couldn't hear. My eyes widened. But just as he raised his wand to obliviate me, another firecracker went off, and with a startled expression, he disappeared.

_Whew! That was close!_ I thought. _I never thought fireworks would keep my memory intact. That's certainly one for the record books!_

Slowly, as my heart slowed its rapid pace and I prepared to sleep, I began thinking. A smile appeared on my face. _I am going to have fun with him_, I thought, as I climbed under the covers. _And this time, I don't have to hold back for fear of doing permanent damage. Yes, _I thought, as I rubbed my hands together in glee, _I'm certainly going to have fun with him. Lots of fun…_


	4. Mistaken Accusations

**LunaShadows**: Sorry, but I'm afraid it's true. Mrs. Weasley does die in my story _Aftermath_. However, don't worry. Anyone else in that story that isn't dead yet won't die. Everyone will pull through somehow. Did you seriously have that dream, though? Weird! Cool, making fun of Voldemort and all, but definitely weird!

**CrAzYaNdPsYcHo**-Yeah, I am evil (well, a little, anyway), though you have to admit, he only got a taste of what he _really_ deserved! Glad you liked my realistic depiction of him, and don't worry, I'll continue writing!

**Nosilla**-Glad you enjoyed your Fourth of July. So you really liked that part you quoted, eh? Good! Cause he deserves worse, but if I gave it to him, I'd be as bad as he is. About that little bit at the end of the review, are you sure you aren't part vampire? (Sly wink) Just kidding, but you do sound at least as evil as I am! (Which, thankfully, isn't a lot!)

**YelloWitchGrl**-Not a problem about the Internet. I'm just glad you liked it! Sorry about the problems you mentioned. It _is_ hard to write in first person, add that to the fact that I only had a limited time to type, well you see the result. And yes, it _was_ Malfoy I was going on about. I deliberately never use anyone's name in this story. I haven't made up my mind _why_, though.

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

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Well, I can't say it was dark and stormy this time! I can't even truthfully say that it was at night. Nope, this time it was in the middle of a bright, sunny day. I was out walking my niece's dog, which I am taking care of while she's gone, and I thought I heard some footsteps behind me. But when I stopped and glanced back, no one was there. I shrugged and continued on.

I stopped before I had gone five steps. I _knew_ I heard footsteps, but I couldn't see anybody! "Who's there?" I called, looking behind me again. "You may be hiding, but I can hear you. _Show yourself_!" I commanded.

"I think you know who I am. Do you really need to see me?"

"Fine. But what do you want?"

"Why don't you finish your walk so we can discuss it inside?"

"All right, fine. Have it your way!" I said, then muttered "After all, why should I care if someone just barges right into my home without an invitation?"

"Careful what you say. I've got an Extendible Ear.Quite clever of Fred and George, and so nice of them to give them to me for free. Not that I needed the discount."

I gritted my teeth and walked up my driveway, trying to grab a hold of the keys in my pocket. I finally obtained them, and after a little more fumbling, I managed to get the correct key in the lock.

When I got inside, I briefly considered slamming and locking the door, but I realized that he could and would just unlock it with his wand.

I hung the keys up above the fireplace, took the leash off the dog, and as soon as I heard my stalker walk in the door, I closed it.

"Now, what's the meaning of this?" I asked the raven-haired boy who materialized out of nowhere in front of me.

He dropped the silvery cloak onto the chair and spoke. "I want to discuss what you made Snape do, and right in front of my eyes, no less!" I could swear sparks were shooting out of his eyes.

"Huh?" I replied in confusion. "What do you mean, what I made Snape do?"

"You know (he used a curse word) well what I'm talking about! When Malfoy couldn't make himself do it, Snape just swooped in, and _bang_, just like that he— "

"But I haven't written a thing for a couple of weeks now!" I interrupted, finally understanding what he was so angry about. "That was Rowling who did that, not me!"

He blinked a couple of times, looking like he'd had ice water thrown in his face. "Are you sure?" was what he finally managed to force out of his mouth.

"I'm positive. You think I don't know what I have and have not done? Yes, you can definitely lay the blame for all your woes at the feet of the _real_ author, J. K. Rowling!"

"Oh," was all he could say, as he sank onto the chair, grief plain on his face. It looked like tears were threatening to spill from his eyes, so I turned away hastily away. He didn't need a witness to his grief!

Sure enough, as soon as I looked away, quiet sobs could be heard behind me; I quickly and quietly shuffled out of the room to give him some privacy.

It was some time before I got the courage to peek back into the room. He was a little red at the corners of his eyes, but other than that, there was no evidence of tears.

"Well, when you catch up to Snape, go easy on him. Remember that vow you overheard him talking about? He was tricked into making his deed a part of that vow."

"Oh, and how do you know this?"

"It was something the author put in the book. Oh, by the way, before you go, could you answer one little question?"

"It seems you have already, but I'll allow another."

"Thanks. How come the dog didn't react to your presence?"

"I am not real. Therefore, I have no smell. And only the person I come to visit can see or hear me."

"Well, that explains things—hey, wait a minute, then why did you bring your invisibility cloak?"

"I wanted to give you a shock. I guess it didn't work. You seem to have a keen sense of hearing." And with those words, he jumped up, grabbed his cloak, and disappeared.

_I guess this is another experience to write about. And even if no one believes me, they'll enjoy the story_. With that thought, I hunted up my writing materials, took the five-minute walk to the library, and typed up my experience.


	5. Nemesis

Disclaimer—see previous chapters

A/N—Sorry I took so long to update. But I finally got the motivation back--but when I finished, the site refused to load the blasted document, or I would've had this up several days ago!

Now, thanks to all who've reviewed, both the original and the newer reviewers. I don't have a list of those reviewers handy as I type this up, but still, you know who you are, don't you?

Also, you'll notice a couple numbers placed in the chapter. Those are footnotes, for details that aren't relevant to the chapter. Now, enjoy.

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It was a dark night (not really a surprise this time, is it?), but no clouds. Occasional fireworks could be heard through my open window, and I was comforting my niece's dog. (Yes, I was watching her again). She gets nervous around fireworks, especially the ones loud enough to be gunshots, so I ran my hands through her golden fur to hold her trembling at bay…but I digress. As I said, I was calming her, when He appeared. Such a tall and sinister figure he was; I don't think you need me to name him, do you? You know who it was.

"Well, boy," he hissed, "it seems we finally meet face-to-face. Have a seat, why don't you?" He gestured toward my bed with his wand.

I sat. What else could I do?

The dog sensed my fear, and now it was her turn to try and calm my fears. She nosed my hand, and I absently patted her head.

"So—touching. Now sit still and listen! You ruined my life! You took away my power! You killed me! Though I came back, but that's not the point! That battle was going so well, and you had to write that that BOY won? Pathetic."

"U-um, what took you so long to get around to visiting me?" I asked hesitantly.

"I was waiting to see if you'd correct that error, but it seems I overestimated your intelligence! You're a fool! A stupid, foolish boy." He glared at me, his face twisted with hate.

"Wh-what are y-y-you g-going t-to d-do to me?"

"I think I'll leave it up to your imagination. But wait, you must not have one, since it would be exactly equal to your intelligence. Maybe I'll have to tell you to get the maximum amount of your fear. You see, first, I'm going to ruin your life through the Imperious curse, and when I've had my fun, I'm going to kill you. Nobody will know it wasn't suicide, and even if they do suspect, they won't really care."

My eyes widened! "B-but if y-you k-kill me, w-won't that d-destroy you too?" I stammered.

"Hmm. For once in your boring little life, you have a legitimate point." His gaze turned down toward the floor, contemplating my statement, and he started muttering quietly, probably assuming I couldn't hear. "If he dies, I will cease to exist. The Horcruxes won't do much good if they don't exist anymore." He turned his vivid, scarlet-colored eyes back to me and in that cold, sibilant voice said, "It looks like there's been a change of plan. Instead of killing you, I'll torture you senseless."

I gulped—audibly. He smiled, sending shivers down my spine. He raised his wand, and I tried to look away, but it seemed my muscles wouldn't respond. I could only stare, with my mouth going dry and my eyes refusing to blink.

He just held it there for a minute, and I was driven out of my mind, wondering when he'd finally get it over with, but he just stood there with his evil grin plastered on his face. The suspense was killing me!

"Well, get it over with already!" I exclaimed in a fit of courage. His smile disappeared and his arm came down.

"Crucio!" Time seemed to slow down. I winced and closed my eyes, waiting for the curse to hit me. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually my mind worked out that he must have missed deliberately, to mess with my mind. Just as said mind was getting around to sending an all-clear signal to my eyes, he cast the curse again. "Crucio!" I watched seemingly in slow motion as the curse aimed for me. At the last moment, I blinked—and again felt nothing.

But as I opened my eyes for the second time, he cast the curse for the third. "CRUCIO!" This time I had no time to blink. I watched as the curse hit me—and dissipated. I felt nothing, not so much as the slightest twinge of sore muscles, or the pinprick of a needle.

My brain took several seconds to assimilate that fact, but once it kicked into gear, I took a look at his face. His mouth gaped open, and his eyes were as big as saucers. He'd dropped his wand in utter shock. "I-Impossible!" he managed to force out, kneeling and groping for his wand. Unfortunately for him, I'd already recovered, and darted in to snatch it before he could find it, then returning to myplace by the dog and telling her to lie down.

"Looking for this?" I taunted, waving the piece of wood. He stared.

"How?"

"Oh, this?" I said, glancing at the wand and deliberately misunderstanding him. "It was quite easy, seeing as you somehow dropped it."

"Not that," he growled, coming out of his stupor. "You know what I meant."

"Oh? But I though you said, and I quote, that I was a 'stupid, foolish boy' with little imagination, so elaborate." I was also stalling for time, wracking my brains for a legitimate explanation.

"Why are you resistant to one of the most potent curses known to wizardkind?"

"Oh. That's what you meant. Well, even if I did know, I wouldn't tell the likes of you. Now get out of here and leave me alone!" I shouted, snapping his wand in half.

It didn't faze him in the slightest. "Actually, I am unable to leave, due to the fact that you've broken the conduit to my magic," he commented, gesturing at the two halves lying on the floor.

I felt like cursing.

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About two and a halfweeks later (the dog had been returned home, by this time),I was settling in to read a book, when the Visitor-Who-Wouldn't-Leave decided too make his presence known by clearing his throat. I didn't even blink; he'd been doing that ever since the night he'd arrived. I focused on the print in front of me, eager to find out how the current threat to Xanth's welfare was to be averted. 1

"Interesting choice of reading there. But I suppose I should expect nothing less from a Muggle like yourself."

I pointedly ignored him, staring intently at the words on the page.

"I know you can hear me. Why deny it?"

And before I could stop myself, I shot a glare at him.

"Ah, a response. For a minute there I was beginning to wonder if you were deaf."

I gritted my teeth. "You know very well I'm not hard of hearing, in any way, shape, or form. Now shut up and let me read."

I returned my attention to the book, but before I could learn about the demon's answer to the evil machine's question, my 'guest' started cackling.

If only looks could kill. "Just what do you find so amusing?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that it's so easy to get a rise out of you."

I sighed, and muttered the doctor's phrase from the animated movie Atlantis, "Lord, give me strength."

"Somehow, I don't think he's listening. That is, if he even exists."

I snapped. Before I even thought about what I was doing, I leapt at him, and my fist connected with his nose with a satisfying CRACK! My other hand came to an abrupt halt in his stomach, and he folded, winded. But before I could get in a good kick, he vanished.

Well, I suppose two good punches was enough. It appeared he'd lied about the wand, but that was to be expected, considering his 'identity.' And finally, after two weeks of nagging, I could have some peace and quiet in which to read. But I'd barely read a page when—"Could you help me pick blueberries, son?" 2

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Whew! Longest chapter yet! I finally got it typed! But now my feet are cold, and my dad is nagging at me to go to bed. looks at clock Holy cow! It's nearly midnight! No wonder he's irritated! Well, I _am_ tired, and my feet are cold, so after these last author's notes plus the footnotes, I'm going to hit the hay. Oh, before I forget, please review! Even if it's to say you hate it. If that happens to be the case, please let me know why, so I can keep from making the same mistakes in the future. So long!

1 Yes, I am a big fan of the author Piers Anthony, especially his Magic of Xanth series. I highly recommend them! Anyone that would like a nearly complete list (23 of the 28 books), in chronological order, or even just the first one, PM me and I'll send it to you.

2That at the very last would be my mother, but actually saying that in my story would be providing too much detail, thereby cutting down on the humor it invokes.


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